


Cricket

by ktbl



Category: Ghost of Tsushima (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Hate Sex, Kinktober 2020, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:06:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26941111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktbl/pseuds/ktbl
Summary: What would have happened if Jin stayed that night, when Tomoe extended the offer?-Kinktober 2020 Day 11: Hate Sex
Relationships: Jin Sakai/Tomoe
Comments: 17
Kudos: 34
Collections: Kinktober 2020





	Cricket

“Jin… you can stay the night.”

The offer is there in Tomoe’s voice, if he looks for it; Jin Sakai isn’t entirely sure he wants to. _The illusion of opportunity._ He looks over his shoulder at her, already on his way to the door. The wind outside is keening and he can feel the difference between the room with the fire and the chamber without it. He turns slightly. “Can I? Would I wake up with an arrow in my back?”

“Like you said, I need Sensei Ishikawa.” Her voice is clipped, and she looks at him, and then back at the fire, not bothering to stand. “I need you.” And there is something in her voice that loosens, goes low and hot like the fire. She’d been very clear as they walked and rode, when addressing him as a samurai, or the Ghost. Tomoe picks every word carefully. She is definitely not talking about the Ghost right now.

“You have no shame, Tomoe.” His words are rough, his back turned to her, the warmth of the fire comfortable behind him. The winds of the blizzard keen outside and he is so very, very tempted.

“Why should I? I have had to fight my way with with fist and bow since I was a child. Shame is for those who have something to lose. I never had anything.” Tomoe rises up carefully off the ground with the kind of grace he’d only expected to see from samurai women. There is a cricket, he notes absentmindedly, climbing on the pothook. It really _is_ cold for such a little thing to risk that danger.

“Ishikawa-sensei was ready to give you everything. To make you his heir.”

“And the price I would have had to pay for it?” She shakes her head. “No. He wanted a samurai daughter. I would never be that, no matter how hard I tried. I’ve done wrong, Jin. And I want to start my life again, a new life, on the mainland. In Kyoto, that inn. Learning to play the shamisen. Set these fingers to different strings.”

“I do not trust you, Tomoe.”

“I’m not asking you to trust me, Jin. Share a meal, share a futon instead of starving and freezing in a blizzard.” She bends down and turns the skewered meat on the fire. “It’s in my best interests as much as yours to keep you alive to fight the Mongols. Better if you’re even mildly kindly disposed to me. You might not let them shoot me down first, then.”

“So that’s all this is, then? A way to make me be better inclined to speak in your favor to Sensei Ishikawa?” Jin watches the meat sizzle in the flames, fat dropping onto the coals.He doesn’t want to do anything that would make himself indebted to her; there is still honor to think of. Even if his is looking a little rough around the edges.

“You don’t like me, Jin. I understand that. What I’m asking doesn’t require liking. But I won’t try to take it from you if you aren’t willing.” Tomoe reaches for one of the sticks of meat and proffers it to him before taking the second for herself. The game was thin, not much to be enthusiastic about - but this is _meat_ and it is real and there is rice to go with it. He feels guilty eating when he knows so many who had starved, who were starving.

He eats in silence, greedy and hungry and licking the juice off his fingers, and he mulls over her offer. He hasn’t left yet - he could still say no, go back into the snow, find Sensei Ishikawa and tell him of Tomoe’s offer.

Or he could go tomorrow.

It had been a long time since Jin had taken anyone to bed. There had been more than one willing servant girl the nights before Komoda Beach, but he hadn’t wanted to think about sex then, with death looming in front of him. He watches Tomoe pull off her outerwear, removing each piece carefully and neatly until she is only clad in her underlayers. Jin doesn’t try to make up stories as she disrobes; if she were samurai, he might have thought her pretty enough to court. He keeps an eye on her, mildly curious if she will have a thin coat of fur, or the sign of a pearl somewhere about her - if she was _kitsune_ , much could be excused of such a trickster. He doubts she would be so crass as to show her tail.

But she is pointedly _not_ samurai, and there is no courtship tonight, and she shows no signs of being a shapeshifting fox spirit. He can see bruises beneath her kimono and hakama, ones that look like big hands have grabbed her, her shoulders and her thighs bruised. For a moment he feels angry - yet another evil to lay at the door of the Mongols - except he wavers, unsure. Perhaps she was willing. Perhaps it wasn’t Mongols. She’s invited him for sex, the two of them uncomfortable with one another, anger and frustration boiling around in them both.He stands up, one hand pulling on the short sleeve of her garment, the gentle tug turning into a rougher yank. She stops, freezes, eyes wide in her round face. She pauses, and arches an eyebrow; he nods, the barest dip of his chin.

They come together roughly, mouths slanting against each other open and messy. She is experienced enough that Jin wonders just what kind of history Tomoe has had, and then decides he doesn’t care - this is not a courtship, this is rutting. He grabs at her clothing, tearing the last of her underlayers away as they spar with their tongues and lips. Her hands grab at him and they both work to strip off his upper clothing, freeing him from it. Since the last visit to an onsen, this is the most bare he’s been - and the first time in someone’s company in a long time. When his torso is bare, she reaches for him again, marking him down the back with scratches like a fox. He grabs her hair in his hands, tightly enough that she makes a low sound of pain in her throat. It doesn’t stop either of them from another rough kiss, her hands raking down his chest this time, pinching his nipples. He feels a sharp jolt like lightning course through him, and he frees one hand to reach for one of her full breasts, twisting a nipple less than gently.

They are both frustrated, and each is a willing, easy target for the other’s frustrations. Tomoe clearly likes to scratch and bite; she sucks marks into Jin as she works her way down his body, leaving a path of red behind her. His skin prickles and pain-pleasure spikes through him when she presses on the fresh bruises. He keeps one hand knotted in her hair, pulling back on it when she gets too rough, or she’s not moving fast enough, or she’s moving too fast - or when he just wants to. She doesn’t draw blood - a miracle, he thinks, the way she’s been behaving - but he can see her quickening pulse and faster breathing, and knows that she is enjoying this as much as he is.

His cock is already more than half-hard as she makes; there have been enough near-death experiences lately that he has barely paid any attention to his body’s desires. Having a naked woman in such close proximity is the end of any restraint it has, and Jin can feel it throbbing with blood and base desire.

Tomoe crashes to her knees in front of him, hands pulling apart the fastenings on his hakama and her fingers working at the wraps of his fundoshi. She seems somewhat practiced at this; she has his cock out and in her hands before he can even worry about what she’ll do to it. She seems shockingly obliging, all things considered: she takes him into her mouth and works him with long licks and hollowed cheeks until he’s as hard as one of his blades.

“Not bad,” she says once as she pulls off, looking at his length with a critical eye, stroking along his balls with a fingertip. She dives back down on him, one hand working the slick length of his shaft that is not in her mouth. He hates that this feels good, hates that he likes how she looks doing it, dark hair a nimbus around her head in the firelight. He has _earned_ this - all the death, all the deprivation, all the fighting, the insults and struggles - and even Tomoe herself setting the people of Tsushima against him and Sensei Ishikawa.

He ruts into her mouth with abandon, driving himself into the close warmth with enough force that she gags. He holds himself there, just for a moment, before pulling back. She looks up and her eyes are slitted and angry and tears leak from the sides, but she doesn’t stop, where a good woman would have been offended. She dips her tongue into the slit at the crown, tongue tip dancing along the sensitive space beneath the crown, licking long stripes up the side like he is a children’s sweet for her to enjoy. She swallows around him and he lets out a moan of pleasure at the things her mouth does at the movement. He lets some of his restraint go: there’s no need to hold back. This is for him, not her.

He feels the telltale tightening in his body, the pleasure coiling in his groin, stretching itself up along his spine. He can’t decide how he wants to finish - buried in her mouth? Pulling out, marking her body with himself? Which would make him happier? He has time to think, enjoying the way she moves, the quicker pace, the way she is rising with him -

The heat suddenly abates, the rush towards ecstasy suddenly pulled up short like a horse on tight reins. Her fingers make a tight circle around the base of his cock and squeeze just tight enough to still him. It _hurts_ , the tightness of her grip and the way she has knocked him back from finding his peak. She slows her movements, and pushes back against his hands. There is an audible pop as she pulls off him, shaking her head as he tries to push her back down on him.

“No,” she says firmly, “you’re not done yet. You don’t get off that easily.” She smirks at him and pushes up off her knees, wobbling a little. “I expected a little more out of the Ghost, at least. Or is the Ghost so fleeting when it comes to bedding a woman?”

Jin almost snarls, but that would rise to her bait. His balls and cock ache and demand to be buried back inside her _now_ , the need for the heat and touch that will send him over the edge. He scoffs instead of insulting her - he is samurai, he is better than that - and lets her push him back. Normally he does not prefer this, and it seems far too intimate, too gentle, for what they’re doing. If Tomoe is willing to do the work, he’ll let her - he can enjoy himself with far less effort. He watches her lick her lips, watching as he drops down and settles on the thinly padded futon. She moves towards him with easy steps, caging him with her legs. She tilts her head at him, raising an eyebrow, and he drops his chin once in a nod.

Tomoe descends down atop him, sheathing his cock inside her. She is slick and wet, and he grins with self-satisfaction, knowing she wants him, no matter what she says. It feels good and Jin hates it, but not enough that he’s going to stop her. He can’t help the moan as their hips are flush, and then she levers herself up, hips rising and rolling ever so slightly.She smirks, and he digs his hands into her ass roughly; Tomoe jolts up and forward a bit as she makes a pained sound. He likes the movement she makes on him, so he does it again. Her movements start out slow and easy, acclimating herself to him, but he pushes her up and pulls her back down to suit his own rhythm. She is tight, her cunt clinging to him as they move. His hands dig into her hips, pulling her down against him, and she pushes up against him.

They fight to find a rhythm, but Tomoe has the advantage with her position. Jin doesn’t want to make it easy for her; he reaches up and grabs her breasts, squeezing them roughly and flicking her nipples. He tugs one, twisting until it’s just the wrong side of good; she reaches down and mimics the action on him. They exchange little rough abuses, never quite enough to make the other give up or give in, but enough to keep vying for who is in charge. His pleasure will not be denied, and no matter the delay, he feels the tension begin to form again, coiling deep within. She grinds herself against him, and begins making soft grunts and moans. They both grow louder and louder, almost enough to drown out the angry keening of the winds outside.

“That’s it,” Tomoe says with a husky voice, and Jin is just angry enough with the world - angry enough with her - that he stops the slow back and forth grind, pinning her hips in place with his hands, bucking his hips up into her to maintain a purely vertical rhythm. Her inner walls clutches his and she lets out a groan of frustration, and he makes a soft sound of amusement at her clear annoyance. He maintains that pace and motion, feeling his own physical pleasure begin to build as hers withdraws. Tomoe grabs her own breasts, kneading them, tugging roughly at her nipples; he likes the sight, and risks her momentum to swat one of her hands away and cover her breast with his hand. Anything to foil her.

She takes advantage of it, beginning to rock back and forth against him. His choice is abandoning his tugging and twisting of her dark nipples to pin her in place again, or to let her do this. He likes the way she looks, head tipped back and dark hair a curtain around them, mouth hanging half-open in pleasure with what he’s doing to her. They may not like each other, but it’s not a chore to take his pleasure from her. Tomoe grinds down, hips rolling against him.

He feels her body clench around him and it sends bright sparks like firecrackers up his spine. He can’t deny how good it feels as her cunt convulses around him, her body taut. He waits it out until he feels her sag against his thighs. He gives her no time to enjoy the afterglow; Jin reaches for her and levers her up off his cock, tumbling her over onto the futon. Tomoe shoots him a feral look, her eyes small and dark and narrow, and he guides her limbs upright so she kneels on thin padding. Jin rests his hands on her hips and thrusts into her roughly, his body shuddering. She is everything he should only have found in the arms of a wife. Not in the bed of a traitor. He feels almost guilty, and turns that to bear as he fucks her.

He pounds into her relentlessly, savoring how her body clings to his, how her muscles clench and how she slowly, almost reluctantly, works herself against him, meeting his thrusts. His fingers hold onto her hips and keep her in place, the sound of skin smacking roughly against skin an accompaniment to the keening blizzard winds outside and the low crackle of the fire. Jin has no compunction about taking her, dragging every thread of satisfaction and pleasure he can from this encounter, listening to the soft grunts and sighs she makes as he slides in and out of her.

He slaps her ass, grabbing the round curve and squeezing one side and then the other. She yips, almost shooting off his cock entirely before pushing back against him. They continue until Jin can feel her beginning to rise to him again, angling her hips to catch more of him in her. He reaches forward and tangles one hand in her hair as he continues driving himself into her.

His orgasm comes up on him almost as a surprise; it will be denied and delayed no longer. He pushes himself deep in a series of short, sharp thrusts, cock twitching and jerking inside her as he empties himself into her. His hands dig into her ass and hair, using them as supports while his body twitches and the moment of bliss overwhelms him. He pulls partially out and slides back in, holding himself in place deep within her for a few moments as she makes a muffled whine of frustration. Jin is the victor, the way she turns her head to glare at him; he has denied her a second chance at bliss, and she loathes him for it. The fire crackles inside the small house, the wind keening outside, snow beginning to muffle the sounds as it builds up against the walls. She squeezes herself around him and he inhales sharply at the overstimulation.

Jin pulls out, and Tomoe moves forward off her futon, grabbing a pair of torn cloths. She tosses him a cloth, almost perfunctory.

“Here.”

“This doesn’t make what’s between us any better,” he says with a glare, wiping off their mingled fluids.

“I don’t expect it to, Jin. You’re likely to die soon. So am I.” She wads up the cloth and tosses it into the fire. “If I’m going to die, I would at least like to have had some pleasure before I go. And if you shoot me in the back,” she added, lips pulling into something that might be a smile, “you know what your target looks like now.”

“I will have the courtesy to ensure you know your death is coming, Tomoe,” Jin replies, gathering his clothing back up and re-dressing. He crouches before the fire, warming his hands, as Tomoe redresses herself, even taking the time to brush out her hair and plait it for the night.

“There’s only one futon,” she says with an unapologetic voice. “You may share it, or there’s always the floor.”

“I’ll take the floor beside the fire,” he replies evenly. For all that he’s just fucked her, somehow sharing a futon is a step too far, too kind.

“Then sleep well, Jin.”

“You as well, Tomoe.”

He falls asleep quickly, and is gone before the sun rises.

**Author's Note:**

> Haiku aren't actually period-accurate for Ghost of Tsushima, but there are a lot of great ones (including some highly NSFW!), and this one resonated with me as being appropriate for the fic.
> 
> cricket  
> upon hearth’s pothook climbs –  
> frigid night
> 
> Buson


End file.
